


Nice Work If You Can Get It

by spazzTerror



Category: MS Paint Adventures, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Blind Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spazzTerror/pseuds/spazzTerror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spades Slick is tired of Droog bossing him around like the girl friend he doesn't want, so he asked Problem Sleuth to help him 'put a stop to it'. Rather than go with Slick's plan to stab it out of Droog, Sleuth set him up on a blind date with the smartest person he knew: Pickle Inspector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Work If You Can Get It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arsenicPopsicle (fortuitousOdyssey)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortuitousOdyssey/gifts).



> I wish I had an excuse for this. But I don't.

It was late. Well, not really, but Pickle Inspector was running late. It wasn't the first time he was late for an appointment, or even a blind date. Not that the dates ever lasted very long after he got there. Everyone always found him spacey, or absent as the last woman had described him.

He wasn't absent he was -oh hello there.

Pickle Inspector paused halfway in a step away from the scene he had been going over. 

Was that? Why yes it was.

He stepped over to the grass and picked out the shell casing hiding almost playfully in the weeds. He lifted it to his eye to examine it further and found it full of rancid meat.

Obviously someone was filling their own bullets. But why with meat? It wasn't hard enough to withstand the force of gun powder, in fact it wasn't very hard at all, which reminded him that he needed to take that hamburger he bought out of the ice box before it froze solid, it would take forever to thaw that rock- oh.

The Inspector smiled dreamily to himself and put the meaty bullet into a baggie and into his pocket before continuing on his merry way to the station to drop off his vital piece of evidence and information-that date would have to wait a little longer, he would definitely be late for it at this point anyway. He hadn't even had a chance to pick out something to wear, so that alone would make him late.

Problem Sleuth would be so disappointed since he had been the one to set him up. He hoped the lass wasn't too displeased. Displeased dames always made him nervous.

He had ambled home and showered, it would not have been gentlemanly of him to smell like rancid beef on a date, but perhaps he had forgotten to comb his hair; not that trying to tame the wild hedge that was his hair did much good, it always did as it pleased. It had taken him nearly twelve minutes to pick out something nice to wear; he had settled on his tweed suit, it didn't make him look quite so elongated as his usual clothes.

He was nearly an hour late, and not running late this time, but genuinely late late for his blind date-oh hey that rhymed.

As he ambled to the restaurant that Sleuth had made the reservations at, he let his mind wander back to the case and the evidence he had found today. It was genius really. By the time he got the restaurant, he had nearly forgotten why he was there, but Sleuth had of course predicted that and left a photo of him with the Maitre D, who smiled and carefully guided him to the correct table.

Sleuth had also correctly predicted that the Inspector would be late and gave him a time half an hour earlier than the actual reservation, so Pickle Inspector was only actually half an hour late, not a full hour.

Droog shifted in his seat, taking his foot, which was falling asleep, down from his knee and crossing the opposite leg. Really, he should have known better than to trust Slick's idiot boyfriend to fix him up with someone. Problem Sleuth was lucky to keep track of his cases (few as they were), let alone other peoples' social lives.

In the half hour he'd been waiting, he'd consumed rather more wine than was probably advisable under the circumstances and he was rather tipsy. That being the case, when it was Pickle Inspector of all people who joined him at the table, and when he saw that he clearly hadn't realized just who he's sitting across from, he found it incredibly humorous. So humorous, in fact, that he actually cracked an incredibly uncharacteristic smile and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, another thing that he would normally never do.

"Well well well, what have we got here? Of all the people fer Problem Sleuth ta fix me up with. What do ya know? Heh. Well, Pickle Inspector, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of formally introducin' myself to you, so..." He held out a hand across the table to the spacey detective. "Droog. Diamonds Droog."

"hello" Inspector murmured absently, oblivious that he was was seated across the table from not only another man, but one of the most dangerously sharp men in the city. He blinked at the offered hand slowly. "Droog" he mumbled, the name bouncing around in his head and ringing bells. "Droog" he mumbled again, slowly reaching out and taking the hand.

Suddenly his eyes widened and his hand started shaking as the bells finally got through to him. "D-Diamonds D-Droog!" he squeaked. "O-oh! I-I, um, I'm terribly sorry to keep you waiting!" he mumbled hurriedly, releasing the hand and hiding his own hands in his lap, ogling the infamous mobster from across the table. "I-If I would have known I was meeting you I would have hurried right over!"

Droog's smile widened as he watched the spectacle in front of him and, quite beyond his control, he began to chuckle quietly. His hand, elegantly bent at the wrist, came up to rest on his breastbone as his laugh increased ever so slightly in volume, his head tilting first down, then back; his eyes narrowed with mirth and a dangerously fanged grin graced his elegant features. It was well worth the wait just to see that reaction from the lanky Inspector.

"Oh, don't worry, Inspector. I'm not angry. This is a surprise. Well worth tha wait, I gotta say."

"O-Oh, um, i-it is?" Pickle Inspector inquired nervously. "I-I will admit that you w-were not a face I was expecting to see here. B-but then again, you c-can never tell with Sleuth..."

He was painfully aware of his current situation in a way that only usually happened right before a horrible occurrence transpired such as a shoot out, or something equally distressing.

Thankfully the waiter chose to intervene at that very moment to bring them menus.

Droog perused the menu for a minute, deciding what he wanted, then folded it neatly and set it aside. He leaned forward and reached across the table to delicately pluck the empty wine glass from Pickle Inspector's place setting and filled it from the nearly half empty bottle of vintage rosé that he had been working on while he waited. A moment later the glass returned to its place at Pickle Inspector's right and the bottle was set off to the side, out of the way so that Droog could watch the Inspector's face.

"So what was it that had ya so busy, if ya don't mind me askin'?

"Oh, um" Pickle Inspector warily peered over the flimsy menu that he was currently looking at and using as a shield. "I-I was working a case." he mumbled. "T-Time just got away from me I suppose."

He hid behind his menu once more, observing the entrees. "Um... Um, how did s-sleuth rope you into this, i-if I may ask."

Droog shrugged, which, of course, Pickle Inspector couldn't see. "Eh. Bribed me with a free meal an' some good wine if I had a night out with someone he thought I'd like. Figured it was worth a shot. So far I'm not disappointed."

He grinned toothily across the table at the current object of his undivided attention. He was so curious to see what it was about the guy that Sleuth was so convinced he'd be into; so far he wasn't exactly seeing it, but he was plenty entertained enough to make up for that.

"So what sorta case you got?" he inquired, only vaguely interested. He just wanted to keep the guy talking.

"Um, a serial killer. Y-you've probably heard of him, um, the s-series of m-murders w-with the vanishing bullets?" Pickle Inspector inquired shyly. "Um, I-I'm not very c-comfortable t-talking about it really."

Thankfully the waiter came back to inquire about their orders.

"Um... How, how is the v-veal t-tonight?" Pickle Inspector asked softly

"I'm sorry to say that we are out of the Veal" The waitor replied, "Our shipment hasn't come yet as the butcher has informed us that the meat he got was spoiled."

"Oh...Oh!" Pickle Inspector closed the menu with a snap.

Of course! That last little piece fell into place. The killer was a butcher! Who else has access to the meat and a freezer to preserve it all until it was needed! It all made so much sense!

"I th-think I'll have the p-pasta p-putenesca" Inspector stated, standing quickly. "I-I'll be right back"

Droog arched an eyebrow questioningly and stared after the Inspector. He was terribly curious as to what had caused that little outburst, but he supposed he would have to wait until Pickle Inspector returned to find out.

"Hm. I suppose I'll have the tuna nicoise and a bowl of lobster bisque," he said rather boredly, as his mind was most definitely elsewhere.

The waiter gathered up their menus with a smile, asking if he could bring them anything else, which Droog politely declined.

Pickle Inspector hurried to the phones to call in this latest break in his case.

He explained to the detective about the latest break and how the killer was likely to be a butcher and to look for one that was likely to be short on meat since that's what the bullets were made of; and the killer didn't just use one bullet, he emptied an entire clip in his victims.

When he returned to the table, his absent smile was back in place and he took a sip of wine without thinking. "Today is just full of surprises."

"What was all that about?” Droog inquired, genuinely curious. He leaned forward slightly toward the Inspector, his body language betraying just how intrigued he actually was. "You ran off in a awful hurry there, Inspector. Somethin' up?”

"I think I just broke my case" the Inspector replied dreamily. "I hope I did. It would be terrible if another person had to die because the killer slipped away."

He took another sip of wine, looking to Droog. "Don't you agree?"

"Hmm..." Droog hummed thoughtfully, his gaze locked with Pickle Inspector's dreamy stare. "I s'pose it would. How do ya think ya cracked it? What did you come up with all of a sudden, huh? Tell me 'bout this case, PI. I'm interested."

"Oh, I can't tell you." Pickle Inspector replied seriously. "If I divulge any information before the case is closed then there raises the chance that someone will over hear and there will be a copy cat killer, or the real killer will escape or some other horrible option"

He sipped his wine again. "This is rather delightful"

Droog frowned slightly; his curiosity was piqued, and he was left with no way to sate it. Unless... "Would you tell me later? If we were to have a conversation someplace more... private?" he asked with a debonair smile, narrowing his eyes. It wasn't a tactic he'd ever tried on a man before, but that look could turn even the most distracted of dames to jelly, so he had hope that it would work on the spacey Inspector.

"Hmm" the Inspector hummed softly, gazing absently into his glass. "I suppose I could, but only if we were in a secure location. I know my office is secure; I spent a lot of time making it that way. I don't like people listening in on me ,you see." he explained.

"Then shall we make a stop by your office after dinner?" he asked, his smile toothy and serpentine. He was slightly disappointed and very surprised that his wiles didn't work on the man, but he was not one to be easily deterred; he could keep at it as long as necessary.

He decided to change the topic of conversation while they waited for their food to come, so as to keep the mood light and keep Pickle Inspector from fleeing the scene in fear. "What sort of music do ya like, Inspector?" he inquired innocently.

"Oh, um, I like jazz" Pickle Inspector replied, brought back into reality for just a moment before he started thinking about music. "Swing Jazz, Hard Jazz, pretty much all Jazz."

He gave a happy little absent sigh before continuing. "My plant really likes Jazz. It helps it grow, which is good because I don't think I'm very good with plants. All the plants I had before I got my record player died."

"Ya outta come listen to me an' the Crew play sometime, then. Slick's a god on the keys, and I play a pretty suave tenor sax, if I do say so myself." Really, 'pretty suave' was an understatement, but he didn't want to come off as full of himself. Of course, his ego was nearly as big as Slick's, but he would never admit that.

The waiter returned with their food, and Droog gave him a courteous nod. Before he started eating, he made a show of leaning over to refill Pickle Inspector's wine glass. "Good, ain't it? Rosés are good with everythin'."

Pickle Inspector gave an absent nod. He was obviously deep in thought once more, picking at his food as he stared vacantly and only eating a small amount, though he did agree; it had actually been the thought of how lovely the wine was and how fragrant that had started this current train of thought.

Droog was starting to feel, well not uncomfortable per say, but out of his field of comfort. He was used to having to keep talking and keep the dame he was accompanying entertained, but it seemed that the Pickle Inspector didn't need the same type of attention. As a matter of fact, he was certain that if he were to try and keep a conversation going, it would only return the Inspector to the nervous wreak that he always was whenever Droog saw him with Problem Sleuth.

He was pretty sure that Pickle Inspector was already enjoying himself without the two of them trying overly hard. It was actually rather nice.

After a few more minutes, Pickle Inspector finally registered the silence and his gaze found focus on Droog. “I-I'm sorry, am I b-boring you?” he stammered softly, causing Droog to give a sly little smile.

“Nah, yer not borin' me at all. I'd tell ya if ya were.” Droog let his eyes fall to Pickle Inspector's plate. “Though it seems ya don't have much of an appetite.”

“Oh, I was just lost in thought” Pickle Inspector mumbled in embarrassment, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he hurriedly took a decently sized bite of his pasta.

Droog watched him in interest as he finished off his fish and turned to his soup. He took careful, almost measured spoonfuls so as not to spill any on his nice suit, not that all his suits weren't perfectly tailored to his precise measurements.

The rest of dinner passed in moderate silence, occasionally broken by a simple question from one to the other, until the waiter returned and asked if he can get them anything for dessert. Both politely declined and it was at that point that the waiter informed them that their whole meal had been paid for and bid them a wonderful evening.

Droog escorted the Inspector out to his car, insisting on driving him home, though the man protested nervously, saying he really needn't trouble himself. Droog shut him up by replying that if he didn't want to trouble himself that the Inspector may have just been dead by this point.

The drive to Pickle Inspector's apartment was quiet, not because they had nothing to say but because the Inspector was gazing out the window in his thoughtful absent way and Droog was content to let him do so. It was a comfortable silence, just as it had been in the restaurant.

Droog knew exactly where PI's apartment was, seeing as how the Midnight Crew kept tabs on every police officer, political figure, and private investigator in the city. He helped the absent man out of the car, leading him up to the correct floor.  
Pickle Inspector finally snapped out of it in front of his door. “Oh...Well, um, I suppose this is goodnight?” he asked, finally looking at Droog.

“Aren't ya gonna invite me in fer coffee?” Droog asked in amusement. He vaguely realized that PI was the same height as him, making it easier for him to look him in the eye without having to look down. “Thought you were gonna tell me about that case.”

“Oh! R-right, yes, um” Pickle Inspector mumbled, fumbling with his keys to get the door open. “Yes, c-come in, please!” He opened the door widely to allow Droog entry before following him in himself.

Droog looked around with an air of disinterest, though he was truthfully very interested in examining the Pickle Inspector's humble abode.

And humble it was. It was furnished very simply, the furniture all matched, a few photos on the wall; everything was very neat and tidy, from the neatly swept floor to the sudoku books alphabetized on the bookshelf. In fact, the only thing out of place was a solitary sudoku book sitting on the arm of the armchair.

Droog nodded to himself in approval as Pickle Inspector busied himself making coffee in the equally tidy kitchen. With a small smirk, he idly wondered if the bedroom was as tidy as the rest of the house.

Pickle Inspector came out of the kitchen wringing his hands nervously. “Um, the coffee will be a few moments.” he mumbled nervously; and who wouldn't be nervous, having such a dangerous individual in their home (well, besides Problem Sleuth, but he had Slick in his apartment nearly every night so that was really a bad example). “So, um, what would you like to know?”

Droog stepped closer and used a finger to tilt Pickle Inspector's face up from its gaze on the floor. “I want to know what makes you feel good” he chuckled before bringing Pickle Inspector in for a chaste little kiss, pulling back carefully to smirk at the surprised look on Pickle Inspector's face. “Something the matter?”


End file.
